


Sammy's Teacher

by Lokuricas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, HS AU, M/M, teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokuricas/pseuds/Lokuricas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had a meeting with Sam's teacher, Mr Novak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy's Teacher

Dean was running late. Like, super, ridiculously, piss-take late. His meeting was Sam’s teacher was supposed to be at 12:30. It was now 1:15. It wasn’t Dean’s fault though, he swears, he’d just been so busy recently, what with John’s death, and Dean sorting out getting custody of Sam.  
  
See, up until John died, Dean had been living out of state, sort of estranged from John after they’d had a pretty explosive argument after Dean had told him he wasn’t going to join the family business, and he was going to major in creative writing instead. Even so, he still spoke to Sam every day, either via phone, or Internet, or skype, not wanting him to suffer because he and John weren’t really speaking, and when they were it was clipped and strained.  
  
Then John had been involved in a freak cat accident that had killed him instantly, so Dean moved back home to arrange the funeral and look after Sam, enrolled at the local community college and got himself a part time job at his Uncle Bobby’s garage to pay the bills. Sure, Dean could have uprooted Sam so he could continue his creative writing major, but he figured the kids been through enough changes already.  
  
Dean came flying into Sam’s school and breathlessly told the secretary that he was a little late for his meeting with Mr Novak. She raised an eyebrow and snorted “a little?” At him, before proceeding to call someone to see if Mr Novak was still free. And for once, luck seemed to be on Dean’s side, when the secretary told him to go through to the conference room, Mr Novak should be there soon.  
  
Dean was assuming that Mr Novak was a new teacher, because he’d gone to this school before Sam and he’d never come across a Mr Novak. Not that it mattered, he was probably just another old bitter kook who’d become a teacher because he’d failed at everything else in life.  
  
Dean looked around the conference room, almost fondly having spent a lot of his teenage years in here, with his dad sat to the left of him and the principle sat opposite them, telling John about Dean’s latest shenanigan, while John tried not to snigger under his breath about how Dean had filled the pool with the stuff that made water jelly-like. It was when remembering times like these that Dean wished he and John had never fallen out.  
  
Mr Novak entered the room, and woah, he was nothing like Dean expected. Like, damn, the guy was hot. Sharp cheekbones, huge, kinda starey blue eyes, plush pink lips and a nice, straight nose. Dammit. Dean’s teachers were never this hot. Dean noticed, as Mr Novak sat opposite him, that he had a small scar just under the right side of his lower lip, and a small scar on the left nostril, suggesting that he’d had piercings in those places, which Dean found hotter than he should have  
  
“Mr Winchester.” He said, nodding.  
  
“It’s Dean,” Dean told him, before “Sorry I’m late.” Mr Novak’s lips quirked upward slightly.  
  
“You’re a little more than late,” he laughed quietly. “I think you missed the meeting entirely.” Dean felt his face heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.  
  
“Uh yeah, sorry about that, I got wrapped up in some legal stuff about Sammy… You know how it is,” Dean said apologetically. Mr Novak’s face changed quite abruptly.  
  
“Yes. Sam.” He said absently, as if trying to figure out how to start the conversation.  
  
“Yeah, Sam.” Dean sort of mimicked him. “He ain’t in trouble is he?” Mr Novak’s eyes found his, as he shook his head slowly.  
  
“No, no, goodness no.” Mr Novak sighed. “Sam is a good student, exceedingly smart, with an exceedingly bright future…” Dean could sense the _but_. “But,” there it was. “He has seemed very distracted as of recent, which of course is only to be expected, and some of the other teachers say that I am too invested, but I can’t help but be concerned for him. He is not acting like himself. He is quiet, withdraw, he looks ill and he had isolated himself from him friends,” he paused for a moment. “I am to understand your father died recently?”  
  
“Last month, yeah.”  
  
“My condolences.”  
  
“Thank you.”

An awkward silence – or awkward for Dean, at least – stretched around the room for a few seconds as Mr Novak stared at Dean, thinking about what to say next, or maybe how to phrase what he wanted to say next. After a full minute passed, Dean couldn’t take it any longer.  
  
“So, Sammy?” He asked, trying to lead Mr Novak into a conversation about why they were here.  
  
“Yes,” he said, shaking had slightly, “Sam, yes. Apologies, I appear to have gotten wrapped up in my own thoughts.” Mr Novak’s eyes found Dean’s again. “As I said, expectionally smart, very bright future, but as of recent, very sad, very isolated, and he’s also showing signs of social anxiety-“  
  
“Social anxiety?  _My_ Sammy? My Sammy who can make a friend while he waiting in line at Walmart? Are you sure?” It came out a lot more defensive than Dean had meant for it to, but it couldn’t be helped now. Mr Novak nodded.  
  
“Mr Winchester, before I became a teacher, I had studied for a year to be a therapist. Adding to that, I also have a brother who is a Therapist, specializing in teenagers and children, and I spoke to him about Sam, and he believes your brother would benefit greatly from some sessions with him or one of his colleagues.” Mr Novak finished, and waited for Dean to speak.  
  
Dean bowed his head, thinking about what Mr Novak had just said, feeling angry for reasons unknown. He took in a breath. “Are you saying my brother needs to see a shrink? And forgetting that, how do you expect me to pay for that?! I can barely afford to buy Sam new shoes! Do I look like I have money to spare?! Money to go throwing at freaking shrinks?! Are you trying to say that there’s something wrong with my brother?!-”   
   
“Mr Winchester,” Mr Novak cut him off. “I understand that therapists are expensive, but my brother has informed me of a new program, which gives it to children or teenagers that need it, and under my recommendation, Sam would fit the bill. I am certainly _not_ suggesting that there is something wrong with Sam, I am saying he is going through a very trying time, and I believe he would benefit greatly from it. I am asking you to think of your brother’s health before you turn this down, I really do believe this could help him.” Dean wanted to inform Mr Novak of how wrong he was, but drew up a blank. The guy had a point, and he did genuinely seem to care about Sam. But Dean was too stubborn to admit that straight away.  
  
“He can talk to me,” Dean said, in a feeble attempt to win the argument. Mr Novak just raised an eyebrow.  
  
“While that may be true, Mr Winchester,” Mr Novak started. “You have to ask yourself, _will he want to?_ ” And yeah, okay, Mr Novak had him by the balls, he was right and there was nothing he could do about it. Dean ducked his head and accepted defeat, somewhat sulkily.  
  
“Fine. But what would it entail?” He asked, lifting his head again to look at Mr Novak, who played with his pen for a few moments, deep in thought, before he answered, slowly and cautiously.  
  
“It was entail weekly visits to a therapist, which will with time be cut down to once every two weeks, then bi-monthly. You will of course be informed of Sam’s progress, although they will not tell you the exact going on of the sessions.” Mr Novak paused, assessing Dean for a few moments, before continuing. “How does that sound to you, Mr Winchester?” And Dean had to admit, it didn’t really sound all too bad.  
  
***  
  
By the time they had finished discussing all the details for the therapy, such as which days would be best for Dean and Sam, and which times would be best, it was already 2:45pm. Mr Novak had joked “It’s a good thing I didn’t anymore lessons today!” Dean ducked his head again, still slightly embarrassed that he’d been so late to their meeting.  
  
He decided he may as well wait and give Sam a ride home, then he could talk to him about the meeting and see what he had to say about it, because Dean wasn’t going to make Sam do anything he didn’t want to do.   
  
Dean sat on the hood of his Impala, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling deeply while listening to House of the Rising Sun drift out of the speakers, humming to himself as he exhaled. Dean wanted to say he resented that damn iPod jack that Sam had installed, but it came in handy, because not many people made cassette tapes now a-days. He heard them bell ring, loud and clear and a few minutes later, students started to spill out.  
  
After a few seconds, he saw Sam walking alone, head ducked, shoulders hunched. Dean felt his heart twist. The kid was really, _really_ hurting, and he’d been to fucking busy worrying about how he was going to pay the bills and his own feelings to notice. He was so fucking selfish. Dean wanted to kick something.   
  
“Sammy!” He called out, waving his arms, trying to get his attention. Sam lifted his head, catching sight of Dean, he smiled slightly, before speeding up his walking to get to him. “Hey kiddo,” Dean ruffled his hair, beaming at him. “We have no food in, so Pizza or Burritos?”  
  
“Hey Dean, and yeah, Burritos man, do you not know me at all?” Sam poked him, a glimmer of his old self shining through.   
  
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” Dean sighed forlornly. “You’re gassy.” A group of teenage girls walked past and one just so happened to catch Dean’s eye, who felt the need to smile at her politely, but when he did, the girls all burst into peels of laughing, almost practically screeching. Dean had forgotten most teenage girls were like that.  
  
“Um… let’s go…” Dean said, as he watched the girls retreating backs. He had already spent too long at his former school, and he didn’t wanted to spend any more.

  
“Yeah,” Sam complied, climbing into the car. “Okay.”  
  
***  
  
While Dean and Sam waited for their food to come Big Bob’s Burritos, Dean decided he’d broach the subject of therapy. “So…” Dean started, not suspiciously at all. “I spoke to your teacher.” Sam’s head snapped up almost violently.  
  
“I didn’t do anything.” He said quickly, making Dean laugh because he’d said the exact same thing to John when he got his first phone call home.   
  
“I know you didn’t, Sammy.” Dean said, after he stopped laughing. “It was Mr Novak-“  
  
“My English teacher?” Sam asked.  
  
“I think so, anyway, he wanted to talk to me about how you’ve been recently and…” Dean trailed off, not quite sure how to continue. Sam waited, nibbling at his lip nervously. “He said, you ain’t be yourself recently, y’know? Said you seem isolated and he suggested um…” he thought about how to word it. “He thought, maybe you’d need some extra help…” Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion.  
  
“But, I’m doing really well in English, Mr Novak said I’m top of the class-“ Sam was cut off by Dean made a quite groaning noise, and put his head in his hands.   
  
“No, Sammy, no… he meant to help you deal better with Dad.” Dean caught his eye, and watched him as Sam worked out what he meant.  
  
“Oh. Oh right, he wants me to go therapy, or something?” Sam asked, to confirm what Dean was saying to him.  
  
“Um, yeah, but you don’t have to go if you don’t wanna, y’know? He just thinks it’d help, but like I said, you don’t have too, I mean you can always talk to me, I mean I know I haven’t been round much since I left for college but, y’know, I, y’know, I mean you’re my little  brother and I lo- y’know, you’re my family and I’d take a bullet for you so you can talk to me if you wanna I mean if you don’t that’s cool but-“  
  
“Yes.” Sam cut off Dean’s rambling and saved him from embarrassing himself further. “Yeah, I mean, I’d talk to you, but that wouldn’t work, would it Dean, I mean, it just wouldn’t, would it? I think therapy might help.” Sam looked at Dean, watching for his reaction.  
  
“I think the real term was Bereavement Counselling,” Dean smiled tightly, then their food came, so they dropped the subject and spoke about other things. Like how Sam’s grades work, whether Dean was sleeping properly, did Sam need any more text books, etcetera, etcetera.  
  
***  
  
Sam started his sessions pretty quickly after Dean gave Mr Novak the go ahead, and he’d been going there for a few weeks now (six or seven) and Dean was already starting to notice the change. Sam was smiling more, and the other day he even went to see a movie with his friend.  
  
Dean had managed to bag himself a job as a bag himself a job as a bartender, on Fridays and Saturdays, at a place called The Roadhouse. The woman who owned it, Ellen, was a great lady. A real kick-your-ass woman, plus, she let Dean have a few drinks on the job - but he generally stuck to soft drinks like coke or whatever because he had to drive and he didn’t want to get home to Sam being kinda tipsy. She had a daughter too, tiny little thing called Jo, she was about Sam’s age. Dean assumed she was shy when he first met her, because she was staring at him cautiously when he approached the bar. He thought it was weird that Ellen had someone so young working the bar, but he found out later, she liked to talk to the customers. Dean couldn’t work out for the life of him what a young girl like Jo, enjoyed talking to a bunch of old men and alcoholics, but each to their own he guessed.  
  
Anyway, he’d approached the bar on his first night with Jo watching him cautiously, mistaking the caution for shyness. “Hey,” Dean smile at her widely, “would you be able to get your mum for me, sweetie?” Dean assumed that using words like “sweetie” made kids feel more at home, but Jo just raised an eyebrow at him, before walking to a door and sticking her head through.  
  
“Mom?! MOM?! There’s a Disney Princess at the bar for you!” Needless to say, Ellen had pissed herself when she saw Dean stood at the bar, looking somewhat incredulous. Dean never called Jo “sweetie” after that. She was a cool kid, and she’d taken to calling Dean “Rapunzel” because she said he looked like the chick out of Tangled. Dean couldn’t see it himself. She sorta turned into the little sister he’d never had, nor wanted.  
  
That was why Dean was stood behind the bar, with Jo sat the other side, playing blackjack with him. That was why he didn’t notice a certain teacher come in with his date. That was why he jumped out of his skin when Mr Novak say “Hello Dean.”  
  
Dean’s head snapped up and he somehow managed to drop his cards. Jo snorted at him before sliding off his stool and wandering around the back of bar to, Dean assumed, let him talk to Mr Novak in private.  
  
“Mr Novak,” Dean nodded politely while tried to regulate his heartbeat. “Hey.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware you worked here, Dean,” he said, staring intently at Dean as if he was trying to count his freckles.  
  
“Only started a few weeks ago,” Dean smiled. “So, what can I get you?” For a moment Mr Novak looked confused, then his face cleared  
  
“Oh right, yes. Drinks. Can I have a pint of cider, and a lemonade and Southern Comforts, please?” Dean raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Sure,” he turned his back to get the drinks. “Never had you down as a cider drinker?”  
  
“Oh God, no,” and Dean could practically feel the face he was pulling. “That’s for my, um, date.” Dean was surprised to feel a spike of jealousy.  
  
“Oh right,” he replied simply.  
  
“How’s Sam?” Mr Novak asked as Dean put the drinks in front of him.  
  
“That’ll be £4.30,” Dean said, before adding “and he’s fine. Awesome actually. He’s getting a lot better. Say’s it’s your brother - Michael? - who he has his sessions with.”  
  
“Ah yes, Mikey told me he had Sam-“  
  
“C’mon, Cassie, you aren’t planning on leaving me alone the whole night are you?” Dean quirked an eyebrow at the apparently British man who’d just wrapped his arms around “Cassie“‘s waist and rest his chin on “Cassie“‘s shoulder. Mr Novak sighed.  
  
“Balthazar, I was about to come over,” he said it in the same way a parent would tell off their child for being impatient, but the small smile on face said he was anything but annoyed. Dean felt the spike of jealously again. He wanted to be the one to make Mr Novak do that little smile- woah. That came out of nowhere. “But, now you’re here, you might as well help me carry them back.” Balthazar shot Dean a cautious glance, before putting his attention back on Mr Novak.  
  
“Of course I will, darling,” he pulled off Mr Novak and grabbed the drinks.  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” Mr Novak smiled as he paid.  
  
“No problem,” Dean had to stop himself from adding a sarcastic “Cassie” on the end, but sometimes, unsaid does not mean unheard. Mr Novak raised his eyebrow, before nodding and walking over to his date.  
  
Dean sighed angrily as Jo slid into her chair. She furrowed her eyebrows at him for a moment. “So, that guy,” she said slowly, “is he your Flynn Rider, Rapunzel?” Dean assumed that this was a reference to that stupid Tangled film and poked his tongue at her.  
  
“Shut it, Shortbus.” Her lips quirked as she shot a look over to Mr Novak’s table.  
  
“He’s totally your Flynn Rider.”  
  
***  
  
The rest of Dean’s night was spent not feeling jealous that a teacher - Sammy’s teacher - who he’d only met once was on a date with someone who wasn’t him.  
  
Dean definitely didn’t notice how cosy they’d gotten, he definitely didn’t notice Balthazar’s hand on Mr Novak’s thigh. Nope, definitely didn’t notice any of that, because it was nothing to do with him.  
  
But if Dean had been closer, he would have noticed the uncomfortable look on Mr Novak’s face, he would have noticed the hand on his thigh was a lot tighter than necessary, he would have noticed the pair of them were arguing. But no, he didn’t notice at all. Not until Balthazar pushed his chair back angrily.  
  
“Castiel! You’re acting like a child!” But to Dean, it seemed like Balthazar was acting like the child. All Mr Novak did was quirk his eyebrow which seemed to annoy Balthazar even more, evidently, because he stormed out of the bar. Dean watched as Mr Novak heaved a small sigh and decided to pour them both a drink and walk over. It was only five minutes until the end of his shift anyway.  
  
“Hey?” Dean sat opposite him, and plonked the drink in front of him. “You okay?” Mr Novak eyed the drink cautiously.  
  
“I didn’t order a drink.” He looked up at Dean with suspicious slitted eyes that Dean couldn’t help but laugh at.  
  
“I know you didn’t. You seem like you’ve had a rough night, so my treat,” Dean smiled at him, until he smiled back.  
  
“Thank you,” Mr Novak took a sip of his drink. “Rough is not the word I’d use to describe it. Exasperating maybe, but not rough.” Dean pulled a sympathetic face.  
  
“Exasperating how?” He asked, Mr Novak searched his face, before shaking his head.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be working, Dean?” He said it almost regretfully  
  
“Just finished my shift, so if you wanna talk, Mr Novak…” Dean trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken, but not unheard. Mr Novak stared at him for a full minute, before quirking a small smile.  
  
“Dean, you have just witnessed me on one of the worst dates of my life, you can call me by my first name. It’s Castiel,” he told him, Dean nodded.  
  
“Castiel’s a bit of a mouthful,” Dean had gone to smile back at him, but then he spotted the double meaning of the sentence and blushed, but, luckily, Castiel didn’t seem to notice it as he just nodded his agreement. Dean nodded back. “So, you wanna talk?”  
  
Castiel considered for moment, before he shrugged slightly as if to say _why not?_ “Balthazar is…” he paused, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Difficult.” He settled for. “He comes from old money, and a lot of it. And, well, he wanted me to quit my job and move to England with him so he could, quote, “look after” me,” Castiel paused for a breath, allowing Dean to speak.  
  
“That’s bullshit, Cas.” Dean told him, sounding needlessly fierce.  
  
“I know that, that’s why I told him no.” Castiel shook his head sighing. “He didn’t like that, not one bit…” Castiel looked up at Dean and began to whisper. “Truth be told, I’m glad he left, because I couldn’t have left him… things would have gotten most… unpleasant for me.” Dean searched his face, looking for what he meant by “unpleasant” but Castiel gave nothing away.  
  
“Guy seemed like a douche anyways. You can do better than that,” Dean said, before he necked his drink. “If I were you Cas, I would have been shot of him a while ago.” Castiel looked at Dean strangely before ducking his head.  
  
“Balthazar had his moments,” Castiel said, almost fondly. “And he’s the son of my fathers close friend…” he trailed off as he brought his eyes to meet Dean’s. “I will miss him. He was good in bed.” Dean felt his eyes widen, but then he noticed the small smile on at Castiel’s lips. He was teasing. Badly.  
  
“You’re a son of a bitch,” Dean laughed, as he looked at his watch. Dean kinda needed to get home, he didn’t like to leave Sam at home alone longer than necessary. He looked up to Castiel, pulling an apologetic face. “I have to get back to Sammy. How’re you getting home?” Castiel’s mouth made a small _oh_ shape as he furrowed his brow.  
  
“I was meant to go back to Balthazar’s…” Dean didn’t comment on it and instead just stood up and walked over to Castiel to pull him up. Castiel gave him a questioning look.  
  
“Well, c’mon? Cabs are bitch around here, especially at this time of night. I’ll give you a ride back.” Castiel started to shake his head.  
  
“Oh no, that’s really not ne-“  
  
“Dude, seriously, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ride back.” Castiel considered it for a moment.  
  
“As long as that isn’t too much trouble…”  
  
“Nah, no trouble at all man,” Dean shook his head, smiling slightly. “Let’s roll.”  
  
They walked to the Impala, chattering about nothing really. Dean opened up the car door for him, then walked round to his side, digging a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He settled into the driver’s seat and looked over to Castiel to shake his pack at him.  
  
“D’you mind?” He asked.  
  
“It’s your car,” Castiel shrugged.  
  
“Thanks man,” he pulled one out and put it between his lips. “D’you want one?” Castiel shook his head.  
  
“No thank you, I’m quitting,” Castiel smiled.  
  
“You’re a braver man than I,” Dean laughed as he lit it.  
  
***  
  
Dean had, in all honesty, been expecting the drive to be a little awkward, but in actually fact there wasn’t even a second of silence. As it turned out, Cas volunteered at an animal shelter on Saturday and he had a brother called Gabriel who directed porn. Dean had laughed for a good five minutes when he heard that because he couldn’t imagine someone as straight-laced as Castiel to have a brother who makes a living (and a really good living, from what Castiel has told him) from porn, and according to Castiel, Gabriel was married to an ex-porn star. Dean wanted to meet him so bad.  
  
Castiel also spent a large majority of the time poke jibes are Dean for his love of what Castiel called “mullet-rock” reminding Dean strongly of Sam, who’s said the exact same thing. Dean had, of course argued this fiercely when Castiel told him he enjoyed a bunch of indie crap that Dean didn’t even want to talk about.  
  
As Dean pulled up the Castiel house – or apartment, as it were – Castiel was just finishing telling Dean about how when he was younger, he and his cousin were having a wrestling match, and Castiel somehow managed to flip his cousin over and break his nose.  
  
“Jesus – fucking – Christ – Cas,” Dean wheezed, with tear of laughter rolling down his cheek. “What – the – fuck – is – wrong – with – you?” Dean rested his head on his steering wheel.  
  
“I – know – I – know!” Castiel was laughing too, “I – didn’t – mean – too! I – got – in – so – much – trouble!”   
  
Dean was wiping tears from his eyes, and shaking his head. “Oh man, “ he said, sounding slightly breathless.  
  
“I know,” Castiel shook his head. “I was always in trouble as a kid,” he admitted to him, eyes shining. Dean’s eyes flicked to his watch again, and internally sighed.  
  
“I wish I could hear more about it, but I really do have to get back to Sammy.” Castiel looked slightly disappointed, but nodded none-the-less.  
  
“Oh, of course. Sorry to have kept you,” Castiel sighed.  
  
“No, no, not at all… it was nice to hang out with someone nearer to my own age for once. I haven’t done that in a while.” Dean grinned suddenly. “Hey, what’re you doing on next Saturday?”  
  
“Um, nothing I don’t think…” Castiel had a pretty good idea where this was heading and he wasn’t complaining, Dean seemed infinitely better than Balthazar.  
  
“Well, d’you wanna come and get something to eat? It’d be nice to have a friend here…” Oh. Oh okay. Friend. Okay, friend, Castiel could deal with friend.  
  
“I… would love to, Dean,” Castiel beamed at him, while Dean wrote down his number for Castiel and Castiel vice-versa.  
  
“Next Saturday?” Dean confirmed as Castiel got out of the car.  
  
“Next Saturday,” Castiel nodded.  
  
***  
  
Dean was looking in the mirror, getting ready for work at the bar when Sam came home on Friday afternoon, with an envelope in his hand. Dean eyed it cautiously, then eyed Sam in the through the reflection, to find that Sam was giving him a look at well.  
  
“What’s the letter, Sammy?”  
  
“Mr Novak asked me to give you this.” They spoke at the same time.  
  
“Oh sorry.”  
  
“Oh sorry.” They both spoke again, making them both snort in amusement.   
  
“You first, Sammy,” Dean said, as he turned away from the mirror to look at Sam, who nodded and held out the letter.  
  
“Mr Novak asked me to give you this, said to tell you he’d broken his phone and he had to get a new one…” Sam gave Dean a questioning look. “Dean… you’re not planning on screwing my favourite teacher, are you? Please tell me you’re not planning on screwing my favourite teacher.” Dean watched him with an amused smile.  
  
“No! Jesus Sammy. I saw him the other week at work and we got talking, so I guess we’re friends now, that all,” Dean laughed as he took the envelope that – he assumed – contained Castiel’s new number.  
  
“Please don’t screw my favourite teacher,” Sam looked at him with a distinctly horrified look on his face.   
  
“I won’t screw your teacher,” Dean winked as he ruffled Sam’s hair. “Not yet, anyway,” he teased while Sam made a quiet gagging sound.  
  
***  
  
Dean was sat in Joey’s Diner with Castiel, sniggering at the story he was telling him about when he came home one morning with a lip and nose ring, with no idea how he got them, while they waited for their food. Castiel, as it turned out, had been somewhat of a delinquent teenager, who caused his parents a buttfuck ton of grief and snuck out regularly, then came back either completely shitfaced, completely blazed or both.  
  
Castiel was really coming out of his shell and he wasn’t as straight-laced as Dean had first assumed. He wasn’t the sweater/cardigan wearing, indie music liking, glasses-and-books dork, Dean had first thought. He was even speaking differently, less formal, more jokey. He seemed pretty comfortable in Dean’s presence.  
  
“Jesus, Cas, you were a like a fucking Devil-Child,” Dean laughed at him.  
  
“I know, I was a horrible teenager. My mother damn near had a heart attack,” Castiel laughed. “I got grounded for like a month.”  
  
“But that didn’t stop you going out, right?” Dean said, even though he already knew the answer. Castiel put his hand to his chest and gasped.  
  
“Mr Winchester I would never!” He said in a southern accent, before bursting out laughing. “Oh man, I was such an asshole. I remember I snuck out the Saturday after and got a tattoo as some sort of revenge.” Castiel shook his head at himself.  
  
“You have a tattoo?” Dean asked, his curiosity peaked.  
  
“I have quite a few,” Castiel admitted, ducking his head.  
  
“Seriously? Can I see them?” Dean asked, smiling slightly. Castiel thought about it for a moment, before peering around the diner, before shrugging as if to say _why not?_  
  
Before Dean even realized what was going on, Castiel had pulled off his sweater and started to unbutton his shirt. Dean felt like he should have started to object, but in all honesty, he kinda wanted to see Castiel’s chest and he really wanted to see his tattoos. With each button that came undone, more colour became clear. Dean thought he meant four or five, but, Jesus, he wasn’t expecting that many. Castiel pulled his shirt off and stood up to let Dean get a proper look at them.   
  
Castiel had a small bird cage just underneath his collarbone, with three birds flying out of it, a half sleeve of Van Gogh’s starry night wrapping around his left arm, some words in, what Dean assumed was, Latin at his hip, a portrait of a couple on their wedding day, who Dean assumed to be his parents as it said “Alice Novak, 12 th September 1967 – 18th January 2012” and “John Novak, 1st July 1966 – 18th January 2012”,   on the top of his right arm, a ying-and-yang just above his right elbow, a snake wrapping around his right elbow, a crudely drawn stick dog with its tongue flopping out  just on his ribcage, a fucking _TARDIS_ on his lower right arm and a few things Dean knew to be called sigils at the bottom of his right arm.  
  
Dean thought that was all of them until Castiel turned around to show Dean he had a huge pair of black and grey angel wings on his back, with a cross in the middle of them, which spilled on to his arms and snuck down into his pants. After a few more seconds, Castiel put his shirt back on. Dean was, to be honest, speechless.  
  
“So… wanna start with the stick dog?” Dean asked weakly.  
  
“Hm, I was 17 and very, very, _very_ drunk,” Castiel laughed slightly “and I lost a bet.” Dean shook his head at his.  
  
“Jesus Cas,” Dean laughed, “okay, the starry night?”  
  
“22 and I like Van Gogh.”  
  
“The ying-and-yang?”  
  
“21, symbolic for a new found peace and tranquillity in my life.”  
  
“The snake and the TARDIS?”  
  
“18, snakes and Doctor Who are cool.”  
  
“The sigils?”  
  
“17, I smoked a lot of pot, I was very paranoid about demons possessing me.” Dean laughed loudly drawing attention from a few people at the neighbouring tables.  
  
“Wedding portrait?”  
  
“24, my parents. They died in a plane crash, of all things, last year and I just wanted to honour them.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Cas.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“The wings and cross?”  
  
“16, that was the revenge I was talking about.”  
  
“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean snorted loudly. “Okay, okay, the words in Latin?” Dean noticed that Castiel froze and heaved a small sigh.  
  
“19, it means ‘ _I fear no evil’_. My brother, Luke, had just been shot and killed.” Castiel ducked his head sadly, so Dean brought his hand across the table and squeezed his hand.  
  
“You okay, Cas?” He asked quietly.  
  
“Yeah…” Castiel answered. “I just miss him… He was only 25 when he got shot.”  
  
“Can I asked what happened?” Castiel watched Dean for a moment, head tilted, eyes considering.  
  
“He was into a lot of drugs, quite a big name in the underground from what the police report said, got into some trouble with some other drug dealers, I never really found out what, but they shot him. He died pretty much straight away.” Castiel shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Dean could see the pain swimming in his eyes.  
  
“I’m so sorry, man,” Dean whispered to him.  
  
“It was actually that, that made me get my act together. I was heading down the same path and then that happened and I was so scared it was going to happen to me, so I sorted my life out and here I am-“  
  
“Two triple cheese burger meals, one coke, one chocolate milkshake?” Interrupted an obnoxious looking waitress, looking between them. Both of them looked slightly confused for a minute until Dean nodded.  
  
“Yeah…” he shook his head, “um, yeah, sorry, that’s us. Milkshake,” he pointed to Castiel. “Coke,” he pointed to himself. The waitress nodded and set down their meals. When she walked away, Castiel smiled at him softly.  
  
“How about a happier subject?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Yeah, that sounds good… so, what’s it like being a teacher?” Castiel’s face lit up.  
  
***  
  
As the days turned into days and the weeks turned into months, Castiel and Dean’s friendship grew stronger and closer. They met up every week for drinks and sometimes food. Dean learnt that Castiel almost didn’t get the job as a teacher because of his tattoos and that he was also a talented artist. Castiel found out that Dean smoked like a goddamn chimney, and that he wasn’t very apple-pie-and-vanilla-ice cream when he was a teenager either, as he spent a lot of his time out at parties, or getting drinks in bars with a fake ID. He also confided in Castiel that he had once slept with a man in the summer before his last year, only to come back to school in the fall to find the guy he’d slept with was his new physics teacher, needless to say, they had been very awkward lessons, but Dean had sworn up and down that he wouldn’t say a word to anyone, because Dean was a dickwad.   
  
Castiel was also very interested to find out that he was a writer, and insisted that Dean allowed him to read some of his work, and when Dean had finally succumbed and sent Castiel a short story he wrote called “Bluebird”, based loosely around his father after his mother died, Castiel had cried and promptly begged Dean to send him another, Dean hadn’t succumbed yet, but Castiel thought he nearly had him cracked, and had his eye on the file he’d seen on Dean’s laptop called “The Angel and The Righteous Man”.  
  
Dean was grateful he’d made a friend who was as intelligent and articulate as Castiel, but in addition to that, Castiel was interesting and had a story for pretty much everything. He was also as funny a person as Dean had ever met, he was sharp, witty and had a dry sense of humour that more often than not had Dean in stitches.  
  
Sam had cut down to having bi-monthly appointments with Michael and Dean could see the different it had made in him. He could see how much more Sam smile and laughed now, and how much more he went out with friend. He was also a lot more comfortable with Dean working late and leaving him alone in the house.  
  
Yeah, Dean’s life was going pretty well. In fact, it was going great until Ellen gave him the Friday off in return for his services on Sunday, and naturally Dean had agreed because Ellen was a great lady and it was only one Sunday.  
  
Dean had figured that because Sam was staying over at his friends on the Friday, he’d invite Castiel over for a couple of drinks, a take-out and some shitty b-list horror films. And of course Castiel had agreed, saying all he was doing was grading papers and boring himself into a coma.  
  
“So Cas, Chinese, Indian or pizza?” Dean asked from the kitchen, with take-out menus displayed all across the kitchen counter.  
  
“You already know my answer,” Castiel called from the living room, while he sorted out the DVD player.  
  
“You’ve just got the hots for the pizza man,” Dean called back, while thinking, why can’t you have the hots for me? But he didn’t dwell on it.  
  
“What’s your point?” Castiel laughed, “I bet I could learn a few things from him.”  
  
“Urgh, gross. Isn’t he like 18?” Dean mocked.  
  
A small pause.  
  
“Your point being?”  
  
“You’re a gross old man.”  
  
“You say that like I didn’t catch you checking out hot pizza boy’s ass last time we ordered from there,” Castiel shook his head even though Dean couldn’t see him, laughing quietly to himself.  
  
“Yeah, but I’m 21, you’re 25.”  
  
“Whatever, Winchester.”  
  
“Bite me, Novak.”  
  
“Maybe later.” Dean laughed loudly, while he picked up his phone to ring the pizza place.  
  
“You teach my brother with that mouth?” Dean asked while the phone rang.  
  
“I do more than that with this mouth,” Castiel said coyly. Dean shook his head as someone answered the phone to take his order.  
  
Flirting between Castiel and Dean had become second nature to the pair of them. It was always playful and joking with a slight serious undertone. Both of them like to pretend the serious undertone wasn’t there, but that was quite difficult to do when Sam had been with them both together for all of five minutes, and teased Dean for the next three weeks about how bad he was crushing on Castiel, and how bad Castiel was crushing on him.  
  
Dean walked into the living room, to see Castiel snuggled up on his couch, remote in hand, waiting for Dean to settle down so he could press play on Devour. Dean sat on the opposite end of the couch poking Castiel with his foot as he did so.  
  
“Devour? Really?” Dean asked, looking at Castiel incredulously, then looking at the Devour case on the floor and snorting loudly.  
  
“The main guy’s hot. And he looks like you and it makes me laugh,” Castiel said slyly, poking Dean back with his own foot.  
  
“Are you saying I’m hot, Mr Novak?” Dean asked, with a raised eyebrow while trying to keep a straight face.  
  
“You wish I was saying you were hot, now shush, it’s starting,” Castiel focused on the movie and Dean shook his head, sighing while laughing.  
  
Somehow in the half hour it took for their pizza to get there, Castiel and Dean had ended up on the same end on the couch, for lack of a better word, cuddling, not that anyone was complaining because Dean was a cuddler and it was kind of cute, actually. Dean was lay with his head on Castiel’s chest, who had his arm slung around Dean’s shoulder, stroking up and down his arm idly. It should have felt couple-y, but in all honestly, the pair had become so comfortable with each other, it just felt normal.  
  
When the doorbell rang, Dean considered, for s split second, to leave it, but then Castiel’s stomach grumbled and he wriggled his arm from around Dean and shot to the door to pay for it, returning a few seconds later, with two square boxes and a bottle of coke. Dean groaned as he sat up.  
  
“Okay, how much do I owe you?” He asked as he stretched. Castiel shook his head.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled as he handed Dean his pizza. “My treat.”  
  
“Are you-“  
  
“If you say _sure_ , I’m going gut you like a fish,” Castiel deadpanned at him as he collapsed heavily on the couch.   
  
“You’re an ass, d’you know that?”  
  
“I’m a gentleman and a scholar,” Castiel said, before shoving a full slice of pizza into his mouth.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a real gentleman,” Dean snorted sarcastically.  
  
“Shut up and eat your pizza,” Castiel said around his mouthful, trying not to choke. Dean huffed a small laugh before turning back to the film.  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence while they ate, occasionally throwing pizza crusts at each other and mixing their coke with whiskey vodka and whatever other hard liquor they find in the kitchen. It was nice, comfortable, friendly. Dean still gave Castiel these little looks when he wasn’t looking, and sometimes, Dean swore Castiel was doing the same thing, but they were friends, really good friends, and Dean didn’t want to ruin that.  
  
Devour had long since reached its disappointing end, and Dean had put in House Of Wax because he thought Paris Hilton was pretty smoking.  
  
“Paris Hilton? Really?” Castiel asked, eyebrow quirked.  
  
“You’re just jealous,” Dean jibed, poking Castiel in the side, making him roll his eyes.  
  
Castiel held out his arm, “yeah, okay. Now get back over here, the couch feels to big without you and I’m cold,” Dean rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.  
  
“You’re so clingy,” he said as he settled in next to Castiel, who promptly ignored him and pressed play on the remote. Dean huffed a quiet sigh.  
  
Dean was getting sleepy. They were only halfway through the film, and Dean was getting sleepy. Dammit, maybe it was because Dean had drunk more than he’d like to admit and his head was spinning slightly, or y’know more than slightly. But it was okay, because he was pretty sure Castiel was in the same state as him.  
  
Dean rolled round to look at Castiel and ask him if he was staying the night, but instead, he just ended up staring at him and vice versa. Their chests were pressed together and their legs were tangled, and really, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Castiel’s eyes kept flicking down to Dean’s lips while he licked his own and Dean just wanted to follow Castiel’s tongue back into his mouth with his own and, really, it was just bound to happened, really.  
  
Neither know who moved first, maybe it was a mutual thing… In fact, it was definitely a mutual thing. Their lips pressed together, dry and quick. Dean looked up at Castiel with bizarrely innocent looking eyes. It was Dean who surged forward then, taking control of the situation and Castiel was only too happy to oblige. Their lips mashed together almost violently. Dean found himself on top of Castiel, with his hand curled into the hair on the back of Castiel’s head. Castiel’s legs fell open to accommodate Dean, as he cautiously poked his tongue out to swipe at the seam of Dean’s lips. His mouth fell open easily, allowing Castiel to slide his tongue against Dean’s.  
  
Castiel pushed Dean away for him suddenly, so he was knelt between his legs, before pushing him back down, so he could take control of the situation. Dean wriggled slightly, so he could accommodate for Castiel, rubbing his half hard dick against Castiel’s thigh, making his breath hitch.  
  
Castiel searched Dean’s face for moment. “This is okay, isn’t it?” He whispered, somewhat breathless. “You want this, don’t you?” Dean snorted a quiet laugh.  
  
“Oh God, yes,” Dean said. The words had barely left his mouth when Castiel was back on him, hands at his shoulders, holding him down. Their lips mashed together much more urgently, making their teeth clang together, which should have hurt, but they were both too distracted.  
  
Castiel grounded his hips down on Dean, making him whimper softly, encouraging Castiel to continue. One of Dean’s hands wrapped in Castiel’s hair, tugging it slightly, while the other made its way in between their bodies, undoing his pants and slipping inside. Castiel grunted at the contact, resting his forehead against Dean’s for a few seconds, panting slightly, before he began kissing and nipping at Dean’s neck, making sure to leave a mark, wanting people to know that Dean was his.  
  
“Bedroom,” Castiel managed to stutter out, Dean nodded.  
  
They made their way to Dean’s bed, barely parting. When they reached it, Castiel fell back, pulling Dean - who went all too willingly - with him. Castiel carried on marking Dean, more determined than before, replacing nipping for full-on biting.  
  
Dean pulled away and stood, making Castiel sit up, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Then Dean dropped to his knees, staring at Castiel’s crotch. “Can I? Please Cas,” he briefly nuzzled and Castiel’s clothed erection. “Please can I?” He asked, looking up at Castiel shyly, as if he wasn’t on his knees begging Castiel if he could suck him off.  
  
“Fuck yes,” Castiel breathed. Dean didn’t really waste time after that, fingers hooking into Castiel’s pants and boxers, tugging then down. Castiel lifted his hips accommodatingly. Dean threw Castiel’s pants behind him carelessly before taking hold of Castiel’s dick, his hot breath running over it and driving Castiel insane. Dean poked his tongue out and licked at the head, making Castiel utter a quiet “shit.”  
  
Dean wrapped his lips around Castiel cock - and holy fuck those lips were fucking made for this – and began sucking on him. Dean rested his hands on Castiel’s hips and started to bob his head, taking Castiel deeper and deeper, until the tip of it hit the back of Dean’s throat and Castiel couldn’t control his hips and Dean’s grip on them was loose. Castiel thrust upward, forcing his dick deeper. “Shit,” Castiel, pulling Dean off, “shit, shit, shit. I’m so sorry, Dean, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Shit shit shit, I’m so sorry Dean-“  
  
“No, no…” Dean cut him off, looking embarrassed. “I was actually hoping you’d do it again… I mean, the self-control was nice of you and all, but…” Dean paused, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. His voice went huskier when he spoke again. “I like it rough.”  
  
Castiel let out a quiet squeak and his dick throbbed at the words. “What?” He barely

managed to choke out. Dean turned his eyes up to him and licked his lips slowly before speaking.  
  
“Fuck my mouth, Cas,” he whispered, and hell, Castiel didn’t need to be told twice. His hand wrapped in Dean’s hair as he led him toward his cock. Dean opened his mouth obligingly and Castiel began to thrust in, slow at first, and then speeding up, getting deeper and deeper into Dean’s throat, because seemingly Dean didn’t have a gag reflex anymore, which Castiel assumed was due to all the goddamn smoking he did.

  
Castiel’s pants grew louder and louder as he thrust into Dean’s mouth. He looked down at Dean, who was watching Castiel with a wide-eyed look that just didn’t look right when he had a mouthful of dick. Dean contracted his throat around Castiel, making him fling his head back in appreciation.  
  
“Fuck, Dean baby, fuck, shit yes,” Castiel moaned. He was close. Way to close to comfort when Dean hadn’t even had a hand in his dick. Castiel grabbed one of Dean’s hands and began to lick it, coating it in spit. “T-touch yourself, baby.” Castiel stuttered as he dropped Dean’s hand and looked down at him.  
  
Dean responded eagerly, wrapping his hand around his dick and stroking his roughly to the beat of Castiel’s thrusts. Dean wasn’t going to last long, he knew it. The whole “fuck-my-mouth” thing had always been a fantasy of Dean’s that he’d always been too embarrassed to say out loud.  
  
Castiel’s thrusts grew fast and stuttered slightly before he came down Dean’s throat with a loud moan. Dean followed not long after, when his head was nuzzled in Castiel’s crotch, with Castiel whispering “let it go, baby.” Dean groaned softly, and considered falling asleep in Castiel’s lap, still on his knees, but Castiel pulled him up and on to the bed, somehow wriggling them both under the cover. Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean and pulled him close.  
  
They both fell asleep naked from the waist down and happy.  
  
***  
  
See, both had them had forgotten about Sam and that he was staying at a friend’s. And quite frankly, Dean didn’t want to think about his little brother while he was sucking his little brother’s teacher’s brain out through his dick, and Castiel didn’t want to think about his favourite pupil while his favourite pupil’s older brother was sucking his brain out through his dick. In any case, they both assumed they’d be awake and cleaned up before Sam got home, but apparently the spur-of-the-moment blowjob-and-orgasm combo had taken more out of them than they’d realised.  
  
Somewhere during the night, Castiel and Dean had lost their shirts, not in a sexual way, just in a “it’s too warm” way. They had started spooning too, with Dean as the little spoon. Not that either of them was going to complain. It was about 12:13 when they woke up and that was only because they heard the door slam shut as Sam entered the house.  
  
“Shit.” Dean turned to Castiel with a look of pure terror. “Shit shit shit.”  
  
“Dean?” Sam called out. Dean attempted to scrambled out of bed, but only succeeded in falling and making a huge bang.  
  
“Dean? You there?” Sam asked, his footsteps coming toward Dean room. Castiel shot out of bed and tugged on the first pair of boxers he saw, which, he was pretty sure, were Dean’s. Sam stepped into the room less than a second later, just as Dean had managed to scramble into some boxers.  
  
The three of them froze, Dean and Castiel staring at Sam, who’s eyes were flicking between them. There was really no way they could lie their way out of this, literally not way, what with Dean sat on the floor with some boxers on inside out and Castiel stood up with Dean’s boxers on and sex hair, added to that, their clothes were sorta flung everywhere. Castiel was sure that his shirt that was hanging off the lamp. Even the they could make up some story to explain all of that, the room reeked of sex and no doubt, Dean and Castiel did too.  
  
“Oh, I uh um I ahhh um sorry,” Sam stuttered out before fleeing the room. Dean stared after him.  
  
“Fuck!” He exploded suddenly. “Fucking fuck shit cunt, dammit!” Castiel lowered his head and furrowed his brow, while trying to make himself as small as possible as to avoid Dean looking at him. Even when he was younger, people shouting or sounding even slightly aggressive scared him. He had thought he’d grown out of that in his teenage years, but he realised at that point in his life he was generally too drunk or too stoned to realise someone was being confrontational.  
  
“Um, Dean…” Castiel reached his hand out to touch Dean’s arm, but Dean shot back from him, glaring.  
  
“You need to leave. Now.”  
  
Oh. Castiel’s eyes grew wider and his lips pursed slightly. For a moment Castiel was confused, but that was gone as soon as it came and replaced with anger.  
  
“What do you mean?” He snapped, feeling a small curl of pleasure when Dean jumped. “Surely we should talk to Sam together!”  
  
“No! You don’t have any right to talk to my brother about anything other than English,” Dean snarled, dangerously.  
  
“You weren’t saying that a few weeks ago,” Castiel sniped at him.  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Cas,” Dean’s voice was low and quiet. “Shut the fuck up and leave.” Castiel looked around his head, looking for something to say, the fight going out of him mere minutes after it entered, being replaced by sadness.  
  
“But… What about last night?” Castiel asked him, glad his voice didn’t sound as sad as he felt. For a split second, Dean looked conflicted.  
  
“It was just blowjob, man.” Dean muttered.  
  
“And all the weeks before that?” Ah, Castiel had him there. But Dean being as headstrong as he was, wasn’t going to let Castiel win the argument and there was the small part of Dean that was pure angst and self-loathing that told Dean he didn’t deserve to have someone like Castiel, and that he definitely didn’t deserve to love someone like Castiel.  
  
“I just wanted you in bed,” Dean muttered, then “you seriously need to go.” He lowered his eyes to the floor. Castiel stared at him, before putting on the rest of his clothes and walking straight out of the flat and slamming the door behind him.  
  
***  
  
Sam sat on his bed, listening to the argument of muffled voiced going on in the next room. A few seconds later, the door slammed loudly, and Sam guessed that that was Mr Novak storming. He bit at his lip nervously. He had only been joking when he told Dean not to sleep with his favourite teacher - although, he didn’t really need to walk in on it. He actually quite liked the idea, and he thought Mr Novak would be good for Dean, because for all his arrogance and bravado, Dean was really, for lack of a better word, fragile. Full of self-loathing for not really making up with John before- y’know. Full of guilt for not being around for him for the past year or so. Full of sadness and fear because of what happened to their mom. Mr Novak was good and kind and had a better chance at fixing Dean than anyone else in the world. He really hoped Dean hadn’t said anything too Dean-ish in an attempt to hide his real feelings.  
  
Dean shuffled in, rubbing the back of his neck, with a faint blush on his cheeks. Sam watched him open and close his mouth several times before clearing his throat and starting.  
  
“I, um… I’m sorry you had to see that, Sammy, I’m sorry I slept with your teacher, I’m sorry about everything…” There was more behind that last apology, but Sam wasn’t given a chance to dwell. “But it won’t happen again, I promise.”  
  
Sam started and looked up at Dean. “Whatta you mean won’t happen again? You’re still friends right? And I totally don’t mind if you date Mr Novak. I mean, I like Mr Novak and you like Mr Novak and Mr Novak likes you and-“  
  
“Sam,” Dean cut him off shaking his head. “I’m sorry man.” Sam bit his lip, sadly. Sam had gotten so used to Mr Novak being around these past few months, it had actually hit him quite hard that he wasn’t going to be around anymore, it was almost like they’d already been dating.  
  
“Oh…” Sam mumbled.  
  
***

The next few weeks were awkward for Sam to say the least. He was in Mr Novak’s class basically every day, learning English, writing essays and such. While Mr Novak didn’t act outwardly different toward Sam, he noticed that Mr Novak would try and avoid him unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn’t look at him and when he did he blushed and turned away again, he didn’t talk to him about books anymore and it was just very frustrating.  
  
It didn’t get any better when Sam went home. Dean was crabby, skulking around the house, grunting at Sam rather than talking to him, and snapping at the slightest thing and it was causing arguments between the pair, which were causing Sam to feel like he did after John had died, even Michael, his therapist, had suggested they increase the sessions again. Sam had turned him down and not mentioned it to Dean, because while they weren’t getting on at the moment, Dean would feel absolutely crushed and Sam just didn’t think he needed that.  
  
***  
  
Dean felt like shit. His head was pounding, his stomach was churning and he was lay in bed next to some dark, short-haired chick who’d been buying him drinks at the bar last night. He realized too late he was in work again the next day and he considered phoning in ill, but he knew Ellen was already pissed at him and he didn’t want to let her down.  
  
Dean stretched and crawled out of the bed, grabbing his discarded boxers and stepping into them, before shaking the girl – who’s name was a fucking mystery to him – awake. She rolled over as she blinked her eyes open. They were bright blue, not as bright as Castiel’s but damn close. This was the fifth time Dean had brought a girl home since Castiel and this was the third time he realized they resembled him in one way or another. Dean held in a small groan.  
  
“Um, it’s late,” Dean said dumbly. The worst part of a one night stand was getting them to leave the next morning. The girl sat up and nodded, with a relieved look on her face.  
  
“Yeah, I should go,” she replied, crawling out of the bed, sounding grateful that Dean had given her a way out without seeming rude. Huh, that was a first. “So, this is really awkward, but…” she trailed off as she pulled on her shirt. “Can you call me a cab because I have no idea where I am.” Dean snorted, she was blunt, he liked that.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Dean answered, before walking into the living room to get his phone and allow the girl some privacy to get dressed. After he called the cab, he started to make himself some coffee and the girl walked out, looking around the living-room-kitchen-combo.  
  
“Nice digs,” she commented, walking over to Dean.   
  
“Thanks,” Dean smiled, “they said your cab would be here in about an hour, they’re _busy_ they said.” The girl smiled and nodded. She was a nice looking girl, really attractive actually, there was no denying that, but she just wasn’t Castiel.  
  
 “Yeah, I take two sugars,” she smirked, and for a moment Dean was confused, until he realized she meant coffee.   
  
“Ah, right… okay,” Dean laughed at her. She was very straight forward. “This is kinda embarrassing, but, I um, I don’t know you name,” Dean said, as he turned his back to get another mug. She snorted loudly.  
  
“I don’t actually know yours either,” she laughed as Dean turned around. She stuck out her hand and grinned. “Kelly, I’m Kelly.” Dean grabbed her hand and shook it.  
  
“Dean,” he smiled, before letting go of her hand and going back to the coffee.  
  
“Can I ask you something, Dean?” She said taking a seat on the sofa.  
  
“Shoot, Kelly,” he replied, stirring her sugar in before grabbing both the mugs and sitting down next to her.  
  
“Who’s Cas?” Dean choked on his coffee.  
  
“How do you know about Cas?” He spluttered, his eyes watering. Kelly smiled.  
  
“You tend to notice when the guy you’re screwing is grunting _Cas_.” Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands.  
  
“That’s embarrassing,” he mumbled.  
  
“Nah, not really, I once screwed a guy who made animal noises in the sack,” she said, patting him on the back. Dean looked up at her, his brows furrowed.  
  
“Really?” He asked, “ _really?”_ He laughed. “Oh man.”  
  
“Oh man indeed,” she agreed. “No, but really, who is she?” Dean looked down and shook he head.  
  
“ _He_ is something that didn’t work out,” Dean shrugged. “I kinda fucked it up.”  
  
“Oh…” Kelly said. “Tell me about it?” she suggested to him. Dean was about to reject the offer, but he suddenly felt the weight of the past few weeks pressing at the back of his throat and he knew that if it wasn’t gunna come out of his mouth, there was a big chance it’d start coming out of his eyes.  
  
That’s how he ended up telling a near enough stranger about Cas, about how badly he fucked it up, how he didn’t mean what he said, how his little brother had been off with his for weeks, how badly he felt like he missed Cas. That was how said stranger ended up giving him advice, ended up telling him that he didn’t go after Cas then he’d end up regretting and sleeping with a load if girls or guys like him and her that were only interested in sex and not commitment.  
  
The thing was though, Kelly was right. Dean was already regretting it. He didn’t want to have a bunch of meaningless flings. Not really. He wanted Castiel.  
  
***  
  
It was Sunday, and the sun was just setting. Sam was sat next to him on the sofa, watching whatever crap was gracing their TV tonight and doing his homework, but Dean was staring at his phone, then looking at Sam, then back to staring at his phone.  
  
He’d been doing this for the past hour.  
  
Sam had elected to ignore it, because he needed to finish this homework and he really didn’t want to know why Dean was glaring at his phone, and glancing at Sam, then continuing to glare at his phone. After another hour of this, Dean finally spoke.  
  
“Sammy, gimme your phone,” Dean turned to him, Sam looked back and raised an eyebrow.  
  
“What? No, why?” Sam said, but he was already pulling his phone out of his pocket.  
  
“I want to call Cas, I’m gunna apologise, but I don’t think he’ll answer if it’s me.” Sam’s eyes widened, along with his smile.  
  
“Really?” He said, shoving his phone at Dean, who nodded softly.  
  
“I um… if this turns out the way I want, would you mind if I asked him on a date?”  
  
“Hell no! Finally, I’ve been waiting for you to get your ass in gear!” Sam said, before shoving him. “Go, call him now!”  
  
***  
  
Dean paced up and down his room, Sam’s phone was ringing loudly in his ear as his hand held it tightly, hoping- praying that Castiel would answer. Dean wanted Castiel more than anyone, and sure maybe whatever Dean was feeling wouldn’t last, sure, but right now it was here and Dean didn’t ever think it was leaving.  
  
Just as Dean was about to give up and put the phone down, the ringing stopped and was replaced with Castiel’s rumble of “hello?” Dean froze, not knowing what to say. It was all well and good saying he was going to make it all better, but when confronted with Castiel’s voice, he didn’t know what to say and he was scared Castiel would slam the phone down as soon as he realized it was him. “Hello?” Castiel repeated when no one replied. “Is anyone there?”  
  
Dean didn’t answer for three more seconds, until he finally choked out, “Cas, it’s… Hey.” Dean finished lamely, not giving his name.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel said, sounding neither angry, nor sad. He sighed and Dean felt as if though he could feel Castiel’s breath tickling his ear. “What do you want?”  
  
“You,” Dean answered before he could stop himself from doing so. Jesus when did Dean’s life turned into a freaking romcom?  
  
“Excuse me?” Castiel spluttered in return and Dean took a moment to envision the soft blush colouring Castiel’s cheeks in his head before he allowed himself to sigh sadly and pinch the bridge of his nose. How could he even explain this?  
  
“I miss you,” he started, taking a heavy seat on his bed. “I was a fucking idiot, I lied and I know I’m a dumb fuck but it wasn’t… I didn’t…” Dean sighed unhappily. “I don’t know man, I didn’t mean what I said, it’s just-fuck… Well, Sammy walked in and I… I panicked, I thought he would want that, I thought he’d be mad at me and hate me… and I got scared, mad… so I took it out on you but I was lying, I just… dammit Cas… I’m sorry,” Dean spoke fast, tripping over a few words and stuttering a bit. Castiel was breathing softly on the other end, not speaking, just listening, considering how to reply.  
  
“Okay.” He replied finally, making Dean jolt in shock.  
  
“Okay?” Dean repeated, disbelieving. “Okay? Really, that’s all? Okay?” Dean said, getting more and more distressed by each syllable. Castiel sighed angrily.  
  
“Well, what do you expect me to say Dean? Did you expect me to come running back with open arms? Did you expect me to just forgive you? Because I’m sorry, Dean, but I can’t do that… You hurt me, and what’s worse you did it with the intention of hurting me.” Dean could see Castiel’s face in his head, pursed lips and furrowed brows. “I understand you panicked, but I’m not made of stone, I have feelings and I…” He sighed, “why now?” Dean’s grip tightened on his phone making his knuckles go white.  
  
“I… don’t know, I would have phoned you the day after but I was scared you’d turn me down, and I don’t deal well with rejection, but fuck man, I can’t stop thinking about you, everything reminds me of you, every single thing – and believe me I tried, Jesus I tried to get you outta my head – then someone told me I’d regret it if I didn’t go after you and fuck… Cas, can I be honest with you?”   
  
“It’s not like I could stop you,” Castiel answered, his voice sounding suspiciously tight. Dean took in a deep breath and shut his eyes.  
  
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Dean whispered. There was a loud crashing sound and the line went dead. Dean felt like he was going to be sick. He took a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut to stop any stray tears felling down his cheek. _Okay,_ he thought to himself, _okay, at least now you know and you can stop brooding._  
  
He took a few calming breaths before he slunk back into the living room, with low shoulders and a drooped head, looking very much like a kicked puppy. He threw Sam his phone before collapsing heavily next to him. Sam glanced at Dean with worry shrouding his features, he opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut him off before he could start. “Don’t wanna talk about it, Sammy,” he mumbled, then after a small pause, added: “please.” And Dean Winchester never says please, that’s just a fact. That was why Sam decided to just let it go. Until tomorrow.  
  
The room was silent – par the TV in the background – and you could cut the tension with a knife. Sam wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa, occasionally shooting small looks to Dean, who was resolutely staring at the TV, looking very much like his eyes were watering, but every few seconds, he blinked furiously, muttering something about having dust in his eye every now and then.  
  
Dean couldn’t sit still, he felt as if though something was moving under his skin and he couldn’t help but wriggle with it. It was almost as if his skin was too tight, compressing him. His heart was too loud and his stomach was flip-flopping. Dean felt like he’d lost someone, like he was in mourning. Shit, he wanted Castiel. He didn’t just want him for sex, he wanted him to hold, to cuddle, to talk to about books and TV shows, to argue with over who put the empty milk carton back in the fridge and who didn’t replace the toilet roll when it ran out. He wanted to come home and tell Castiel about his day, and vice versa. Dean felt as if he’d ruined something great before it even really had a chance to start.  
  
This went on for nearly an hour, until there was a long, insistent knocking at the door. Dean looked to Sam who shrugged his shoulders and pulled his _I don’t know_ face. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself up and walked over to the door. He unlocked the door and pulled it open.  
  
And there Castiel stood, in black pants, a white button-up, a blue tie, a blazer and to top it all off a tan trench coat that looked a size too big. He looked ruffled and sorta outta breath. Dean stared at him, his mouth hanging slightly open. Castiel shuffled from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.  
  
“I dropped my phone in the sink,” Castiel blurted, his eyes wide and almost wild looking. Dean wrinkled his nose, confused for a moment.  
  
“You didn’t put the phone down?” It was meant to be a statement, but it came out as a question. Castiel sighed, sounding somewhat relieved.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Silence stretched between them for a good few minutes. At one point, Sam came to the door to see what was taking Dean so long, but for doing a complete U-turn and walking to his bedroom. Castiel ducked his head and Dean couldn’t help stepping forward and lifting Castiel’s chin up, which made the smaller man freeze for a moment.  
  
“I don’t know why I came,” Castiel confessed, which made Dean drop his hand and step back. “I just… you said you were falling in love with me and I…” he trailed off, shuffling nervously.  
  
“And you came to laugh at me, right?” Dean supplied for him, but Castiel was shaking his head vigorously.   
  
“No, god no… I…” Castiel exhaled nervously. “I think…” Castiel ducked his head. “The feeling’s mutual.” Dean jerked, and made a low squeaking noise.  
  
“Uh,” Dean said dumbly, making Castiel giggle quietly. And that was it for Dean really, because the next thing he knew he was tugging Castiel into his home, closing the door and shoving Castiel up against it, pressing their lips together. It lasted all of three seconds before Dean threw himself back, blushing furiously. “I’m sorry, Cas.”  
  
“No, it’s okay,” Castiel whispered.  
  
“Do you want to leave, I get it if you do,” Dean mumbled sadly.  
  
“I don’t want to leave.” Dean glanced at him shyly.  
  
“You… you don’t?”  
  
“No, no I wish to stay here… if, if that’s okay?” Castiel asked, nibbling his lip.  
  
“You stay here and I’m never gunna let you go,” Dean replied seriously. Castiel smiled small and soft, his eyes twinkling slightly. He took a few steps toward Dean, until he was stood right in front of him, less than an inch away.  
  
“Who says I want you too?” Dean’s eyes brightened and he smiled widely.  
  
“You serious?”   
  
“I’m always serious.”  
  
Dean swept Castiel up off his feet, letting Castiel wrap his legs around Dean’s waist as they pressed their lips together messily. Castiel ended up once again pressed against the door, panting slightly as Dean moved to his neck.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said between bites and kisses, “I’m so sorry, Cas. I’m sorry, I love you, I’m an idiot, shit I’m so sorry.” Castiel let out a quiet moan and tried to press himself closer to Dean to give himself a small bit of relief for his growing erection.  
  
“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Castiel said breathily. “But I might reconsider if you don’t take me to you bedroom right now.” Dean laughed softly.  
  
“You got a deal,” Dean said as he let go of him and they ran to Dean’s room.  
  
***  
  
Sam sat in his room, his nose scrunched up in horror. He was happy Dean and Castiel had made up and all, but he didn’t need to hear those noises coming from his brothers room. He really, really didn’t. Unfortunately, he’d left his ipod in the Dean’s room and he wasn’t going anywhere near there.


End file.
